The Lancashire Witches eBook

From this half-painful, half-pleasurable retrospect
he was aroused by the loud blast of a trumpet, thrice
blown. A recapitulation of his offences, together
with his sentence, was read by a herald, after which
the reversed blazonry was fastened upon the door of
the hall, just below a stone escutcheon on which was
carved the arms of the family; while the paper mitre
was torn and trampled under foot, the lathen crosier
broken in twain, and the scurril banner hacked in
pieces.

While this degrading act was performed, a man in a
miller’s white garb, with the hood drawn over
his face, forced his way towards the tumbrel, and
while the attention of the guard was otherwise engaged,
whispered in Paslew’s ear,

“The wizard has a charm against steel, my son,
and indeed is proof against all weapons forged by
men,” replied Paslew, who recognised the voice
of Hal o’ Nabs, and hoped by this assertion to
divert him from his purpose.

At this moment, word was given to return, and in half
an hour the cavalcade arrived at the abbey in the
same order it had left it.

Though the rain had ceased, heavy clouds still hung
overhead, threatening another deluge, and the aspect
of the abbey remained gloomy as ever. The bell
continued to toll; drums were beaten; and trumpets
sounded from the outer and inner gateway, and from
the three quadrangles. The cavalcade drew up
in front of the great northern entrance; and its return
being announced within, the two other captives were
brought forth, each fastened upon a hurdle, harnessed
to a stout horse. They looked dead already, so
ghastly was the hue of their cheeks.

The abbot’s turn came next. Another hurdle
was brought forward, and Demdike advanced to the tumbrel.
But Paslew recoiled from his touch, and sprang to
the ground unaided. He was then laid on his back
upon the hurdle, and his hands and feet were bound
fast with ropes to the twisted timbers. While
this painful task was roughly performed by the wizard’s
two ill-favoured assistants, the crowd of rustics who
looked on, murmured and exhibited such strong tokens
of displeasure, that the guard thought it prudent
to keep them off with their halberts. But when
all was done, Demdike motioned to a man standing behind
him to advance, and the person who was wrapped in
a russet cloak complied, drew forth an infant, and
held it in such way that the abbot could see it.
Paslew understood what was meant, but he uttered not
a word. Demdike then knelt down beside him, as
if ascertaining the security of the cords, and whispered
in his ear:—­

“Recall thy malediction, and my dagger shall
save thee from the last indignity.”